


Dean's Vows for His Destiny

by Freedoms_Champion



Series: Transformations AU [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Dean is In Over His Head, Dean is the Sword of Heaven, Gen, True Forms, extremely minor Destiel, get Dean some pants, looking for Sam, nothing goes the way Heaven wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freedoms_Champion/pseuds/Freedoms_Champion
Summary: After weeks of looking for Sam after Dean mysteriously comes back to life, he meets a stranger. An unfamiliar stranger who feels like an old friend.Dean must make a vow before he can learn anything about Sam's fate. But Dean would do anything to look out for his little brother.
Series: Transformations AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764439
Kudos: 9





	Dean's Vows for His Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!

“Damn it, Bobby, people don’t just vanish!” Dean snapped, tossing aside a useless sheaf of papers.

“Don’t raise your voice at me, boy,” Bobby growled back, showing the fiery temper that went with his fading red hair. He huffed and pulled down another stack of old books.

Dean couldn’t figure out why. Old books weren’t going to help them find Sam. His little brother was missing in a very modern world, not pressed between the pages of some old lore book. Though, it would be simpler if Sam was simply buried in one of the books. Those, Dean could handle.

Weeks of coming up empty were hard.

Dean scrubbed at his eyes and headed outside. He wouldn’t accomplish much pacing the stacks of gutted cars in Bobby’s lot, but at least it would keep him from offending the only person willing to help him.

“Sammy, where are you?” he mumbled. He’d woken up in a field after his death, an open grave and empty wooden coffin the only signs that he’d been dead at all. His body hadn’t rotted, and he hadn’t been scarred by the hellhounds. Dean shuddered as he remembered the monster dogs ripping him apart.

He’d made it back to Bobby’s, only to find his friend had no idea how he was alive and no idea where his brother was. None of Sam’s numbers had worked and none of their hunter friends had been able to help.

Dean was getting desperate enough to jump in his baby and just start looking for Sam. The kid was dumb enough he might have gone back to Lawrence or visited Jess’s grave in California. Dean had even wracked his brain to remember the exact place where they had burned their father’s body before Bobby locked him in the dungeon to keep him from leaving.

The dungeon was cool, when he wasn’t locked inside it. Dean kind of wished he’d had a base of operations to build his own.

Not that it would help Sam.

Dean would have suspected demons had killed him, expect for two things. All the hunters Bobby knew were reporting that the demons had vanished. No one had seen black smoke, signs or omens, or even evidence of deals. Second, the demons had plans for Sam. Dean hated to consider that they might be holding him in a hole somewhere, but he knew the demons wouldn’t kill him.

Too bad none of them were answering summons so he could question them. Bobby couldn’t explain why, but none of the summons they knew could even conjure a demon. Hunters around the country were reporting the same thing.

“Your dedication to your brother is admirable,” said a rough voice that Dean couldn’t place. He whipped around, dragging out his pocket knife and cursing the fact that he wasn’t armed with anything else.

A man stood in front of Dean, seemingly unconcerned with the knife. He was shorter than Dean, with inky-dark hair, pale skin, and intense blue eyes. He wore a tan trench coat over a dark suit, the blue tie pulled loose.

Dean didn’t know him, but the sound of his voice stirred his memory. It was as if this man was a friend he’d had as a small child and forgotten about. It didn’t make sense. Dean couldn’t remember any friends he might have had before his mother died and he certainly hadn’t made any afterward.

“Who are you?” he asked warily, not lowering his pocket knife.

“My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord,” the man said. It took a moment for Dean to realize he was perfectly serious.

“An angel? Why are you here? Where have you been while people have been dying bloody this whole time?”

Castiel’s blue eyes held a sorrow Dean could recognize. Maybe he really was an angel, forced not to act while people died. He certainly looked like the deaths weighed on him personally, the way they weighed on Dean.

“I am here because God commanded it. I was to have raised you from perdition, but when I reached Hell, you were already returned. How did that come to be?”

A smart-ass comment balanced on the tip of Dean’s tongue. It didn’t come out.

“I don’t know. And now my brother’s missing. Can you help?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said. “Sam Winchester’s fate was never in my hands. It was my duty to save you, when the time came. Now things have been altered. I am unsure what follows.”

Dean lowered his knife, trying to process the angel’s words. He felt that Castiel’s suggestion he’d been watching Dean was important, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate.

“Why would an angel rescue me from Hell?” he asked.

“Because Heaven has work for you,” Castiel replied. His form flickered for a moment and changed. Black wings arched over his head. A halo of blue-white flame turned solid nestled into his hair. His eyes glowed even bluer than ever and his skin shimmered pearlescent.

“You were born to serve Heaven, Dean Winchester. You are meant to be the Sword that strikes down the enemies of God and mankind, the weapon to defend the innocent. The time has come for you to take up your arms and serve.”

Even Castiel’s voice had changed. It rang forth a little louder than humanly possible, underlaid with a high-pitched ring that reminded Dean of feedback. A sudden wind stirred Castiel’s coat and ruffled Dean’s hair.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean wished Sam stood at his side. His little brother had a quiet and unyielding belief in heaven and God that Dean couldn’t grasp. Sam would have been over the moon to learn angels were real. He would have been able to understand what Castiel was asking Dean to do.

Without Sam’s big brain, Dean was lost. He wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t like his brother.

“Pledge yourself to the service of God and His angels, Dean,” Castiel said. He spoke at a more comfortable volume now, but that faint ring still clung to his words. “We are going to save this world, but we need your help.”

“If I do this, you have to help me,” Dean said, finally finding his voice and settling on what he wanted. “I’ll fight; it’s what I’m good at. But I want to know what happened to Sam. If you flying mooks can’t do that, then there’s no deal.”

Castiel’s blazing eyes dimmed with sorrow and compassion. Dean wasn’t sure how he could read the angel’s expression, but he knew he was right. Somehow, he was tied to Castiel in a bond he would have to explore to understand. More importantly, something had happened to Sam that Castiel knew would cause Dean pain when he found out.

“Very well, Dean. But Sam’s fate cannot be changed now. He made his choice, just as you must make yours. Say it.” Castiel’s eyes fixed on Dean as he moved forward to grip his shoulder.

Dean rolled his eyes, but he’d finally found someone who could give him news of Sam. A few words weren’t much to ask.

“I pledge myself to the service of God and His angels. Now, what-”

A blast of light and heat cut off Dean’s plan to demand answers. It was like he was suddenly standing in a spotlight. Castiel’s hand on his arm burned.

As suddenly as the light began, it vanished, leaving Dean seeing spots. He rubbed his eyes and blinked to clear them away. When he could see again, Castiel looked pleased as he stepped away.

“What just happened?” Dean asked, confused. The breeze pressed against him and Dean’s balance shifted as something moved on his back. He craned his head around and discovered he had wings. Not just any wings, he had wings that matched his dark blond hair, with darker flecks like his freckles.

Dean poked his head to make sure he hadn’t damaged it somehow. The motion burned his arm where Castiel had gripped it. He looked and found a handprint burned into his skin. On top of that, his clothes had disappeared, replaced by a sleeveless white tunic. Bits of metal wrapped around his forearms, he dimly recognized them as armor. These were inlaid with silver patterns of wings and flames.

His legs were bare below the knee, apart from the laces of sandals around his calves. Dean fixed a glare on Castiel.

“I agreed to work with you, not get a makeover!”

“You are the Sword of Heaven. Accepting your birthright will always lead to changes. Most people won’t notice,” Castiel said dismissively. He folded his dark wings along his back.

“I don’t like it! How do I get these things off?” Dean’s wings flared behind him for emphasis, which might have been cool if he’d done it on purpose.

“Do you want to know about Sam, or do you want to complain?” Castiel retorted, looking frustrated.

“I want to know about Sam,” Dean said, dragging his temper back where it belonged.

“That’s what I thought. Your brother has claimed the throne of Hell. He reigns over the demons now. My superiors fear he intends to make war on mankind. There are many elements of Azazel’s plan that we are not aware of, so if you know anything, I would be grateful.”

Dean waved that off. “Sam’s in Hell? How do I get him back?”

Castiel looked sad. “I’m afraid you don’t, Dean. No power in the world can remove a King of Hell alive from his throne if he is unwilling.”

“I can’t leave him down there!” Dean’s memories of Hell flared up, combined with his imagination to suggest what was happening to his baby brother down there. His vision went black and when it cleared, Castiel was leaning over him.

In fact, Dean was cradled in the angel’s arms, keeping his weight from crushing his wings. Like everything else in this crazy day, Dean couldn’t figure out why it felt so comfortable.

“Dean, I wish there was something I could do,” Castiel said quietly. “I’m just a soldier. I know something bad is coming, but my superiors haven’t told me what to do.”  
“Screw that. Why don’t you and I figure out what to do without them?” Dean said. He still felt a little dizzy, or he might have moved out of Castiel’s embrace.

The angel looked scandalized for a moment, then he frowned in thought.

“Dean, that’s dangerous. There are forces in Heaven you can’t imagine,” he said after a long pause. “However, I have more faith in you than my commanders right now. I will follow you.”

“Great, Cas. Let’s get to work.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “I need to get pants.”


End file.
